Redheads and Robots
by mechawaka
Summary: Gaige's first experiences with Pandora! (Work in progress. Some language but nothing ridiculous)
1. Chapter 1

Silence. A cylindrical void; a journey through incomprehensible data. I felt myself floating, or flying or something, but it wasn't really _me_; at least, it didn't feel that way. Then – light! The familiar, drab, sepia landscape appeared again in digital blocks, just as it had before. I exhaled slowly, inspecting my body for imperfections and running through complex formulas in my head to test mental capacity. Normal. Cuts and bruises gone, no blood, no scars. Clothing still damaged. Damn. So Hyperion could _rebuild a human completely _but when it came to some rips and blood stains, you're out of luck? Fascists.

Okay, trial two of mysterious immortality machine: successful. It was hard to believe that the secrets to life unending had been perfected by a freaking weapons manufacturer out in the boonies of the galaxy.

I pulled out my ECHO recorder and rubbed it as clean as I could with my right hand (my _other_ hand only makes trails through the dust - some things even robotics can't fix). "Test," I spoke into the mic, surprised at how rough my throat had become. Mental note for water. "_Test,_" the recorder played back. Good, that still worked. I wondered if it was still linked to my ECHOcast. Maybe. Was there even a signal out here?

Even if the recorder didn't broadcast, talking to no one had to be better than staring at rocks, dirt, and more rocks, right? And eventually I would run into some kind of town, and that town would have water.

Right?

Anyway. It was better to put as much distance between myself and the shuttle wreckage as possible. I clicked on the recorder and started out, sticking as close as I could to the rocky walls of the canyon. Canyon? Basin? Whatever.

"Hel-loo, subscribers! I can't see how many of you there are cuz my screen is slightly broken, so I'm gonna say thirty million. I've made it safely to Pandora! But, uh, I probably should've studied its geography a bit more because...uhh...okay, I'm lost. So lost. I think I'm in some kind of desert, but who the hell knows! It's Pandora. For all I know, this could be the whole damn planet. But I've already learned a valuable lesson!" I took a deep breath, pointlessly scanning the horizon again for civilization. But the same dark bit of landscape that looked like a town _last_ time was still just a big goddamn rock. Actually, that could be the first rule of Pandora: even if it looks promising, it's a rock. No matter what you're looking for: rock.

"The lesson I learned is that you should _not _rummage through random boxes you find. Because they have money, and a bandit WILL shoot you in the face for twenty bucks. Sad truth, people. Value of a human life here is twenty bucks." I thought I heard the faint sound of engines revving in the distance, but couldn't be sure. "But at least I can't die! Pandora has these neat little immortality machines that just...build you back up again. I dunno how it works. Seems kinda like digistruction but with _people_. Hyperion science is very intriguing-" Okay, that really sounded like engines. I crouched behind a boulder, hoping its meager cover would be enough to hide me from whatever those engines were powering. Because it sounded big. Quickly, I whispered into the recorder, "I may be in legit danger here, subscribers, so I gotta go."

Three vehicles crested one of the many sand dunes; two smaller ones seemed to be escorting a larger one, and the small ones had really big guns mounted on them. And the people inside were definitely bandits. I ducked quickly behind the boulder, hoping that none of them had seen the speck of bright red against the brown land.

"Shit shit shit shit," I muttered, pulling a small pistol out of my belt. It was arguably the most puny gun ever; my dad had a bigger pistol on the sterile, crime-controlled Eden-5. I was doubtful of its power to deter the bandits, but it was better than nothing, right? Plus it had been free. Just laying around in one of those boxes you should definitely _not _be seen rummaging through. Apparently they either contained money or disappointing weaponry, but you can and will be shot in the face for it regardless.

The sound of engines grew closer and closer – and _damn _what was the likelihood that their stupid bandit route passed right by my hidey-rock – until it seemed like I could reach around the boulder and feel metal, but then they stopped. I started to curse my unholy luck until some of the bandits started yelling. Out of the corner of my eye, an even _smaller _vehicle roared over a sand dune, spitting machine gun fire at the bandits. They retaliated, forming a protective semi-circle around the big car and trying to get a lock on the attacker. But the little car was much faster than their bulky ones, and in no time their vehicles were reduced to scrap metal. The bandits themselves became little more than beef stew under its wheels. It was pretty impressive. Kinda like watching a slasher movie except you might be next.

Once all the bandits were dead, a sleek black figure jumped down from the fast car, and in my retarded curiosity I leaned too far out of cover to see what manner of badassery I had just witnessed. Its head turned almost imperceptibly, but I was mostly definitely sure I'd been seen. A guy like that, who'd just slain like ten bandits in the freaking Batmobile? Come on. There was no way I could hide from that. Plus my clothes were like super anti-camo for this place.

But after a few tense moments of waiting, nothing happened. Nobody appeared around my rock, no blazing guns, no death. I poked my head out cautiously, only to see the guy approaching the big car - the one the bandits were guarding. He vaulted onto the top of it and a chest I didn't even notice before opened up for him. I guess there was valuable stuff in it; glaring down at my janky ass pistol, I mentally reprimanded it for not being more awesome. But when I looked up, the mysterious man was gone, the chest empty.

Mild sense of foreboding. I was probably screwed. Before I could turn around, powerful arms clamped around my shoulders; a shining blade was poised at my throat. One rough hand covered my mouth. Again, pretty impressive. But definitely screwed.

"Bandit?" A low, angry, filtered-sounding voice prompted.

The hand momentarily left my mouth. I gasped for air, panicked, and really really meant to logically plead for my life, but instead all my mind gave me was absolute bullshit nonsense. "Hey! Uh, please don't kill me, I've already died once today and it really sucked! I can pay you! Er, that was a lie, but still-"

The hand clamped back over my mouth and the arms tightened. The filtered voice sounded again, strange and poetic,

"I will ask once more,

Since you look out of place here.

Are you a bandit?"

"N-No." The arms released me. I stepped away, rubbing the feeling back into my shoulders, and added as a confused afterthought, "Was that a...haiku?"

The man (I assumed it was a man) walked slowly around to face me, making sure to keep me within arm's length. He was wearing some sort of mask, completely black, so I couldn't tell if he was about to kill me. So I decided to hope for the best, even though he showed no sign of answering my question.

"Uhh...I'm Gaige." I extended my right hand for a friendly shake, but it just hung out there in the empty air. "I uh, I just got here. To Pandora, I mean."

He tilted his head to the side, and a digital red "**?**" appeared on his mask. He offered no words, just stood regarding me in silence. After a while, he slowly reached out and shook my hand briefly. "Zer0." I noticed that _his_ hand had only four fingers.

"Weird name." I laughed nervously, rubbing palm sweat off on my skirt. "So I guess you're not gonna kill me, right? Hahaha..."

He grabbed my wrist and started walking back toward his vehicle. "_They _call me Zer0. We depart."

"You can speak normal sentences!" I blurted out, immediately regretful. Damn my near-Tourette's lack of verbal control! And why was _that _my first reaction to being kidnapped?

He paused and turned toward me. "Yes." He stated plainly, as if I were an imbecile to think otherwise, and started walking again. I let myself be dragged - hell, it was better than wandering through the desert.

"So, since I'm here, I thought I would try Vault hunting - I mean, I don't have any _experience _Vault hunting, and uh, heh, I've never _seen _a Vault Hunter, but-"

"Now you have." He hoisted me up into the gunner seat of the car – did he expect me to use that? – and hopped into the driver's seat. I tried to articulate my raging excitement (it was raging), but he put one finger to his mask for silence. "Bandit land."

We met no more resistance out in "bandit land" (I assume Zer0 killed all the resistance before we met) and I still had no idea where we were going, or even if I was safe at that point. He seemed nice enough, if a bit awkward, but I wasn't so sheltered that I didn't know how to recognize an assassin. They were hired by lots of galactic governments. Quiet, fast, efficient, disposable. I guess some of them were bound to end up on Pandora. And, even if it was a little bizarre, at least one of them decided to try Vault hunting. Which was, by most accounts, better than facing an execution at the hands of some tightwad government official who's lost his use for you.

"Hey, can I stop being quiet now? There aren't any bandits arou-"

"No."

I tapped my fingers impatiently on the turret. "I get the feeling you just don't want to talk to me."

He offered no response, but a bright red "**...**" flashed on his helmet.

"Okay, fine, so you're the silent type."

I heard him sigh; it sounded just as filtered as his regular voice, as if he were speaking through one of those joke voice changers.

"Silence can reveal

What is not commonly seen.

Please stop that tapping."

I fully prepared myself for louder tapping – robo-hand and everything, really all-out tapping – but the car stopped suddenly and I had to practically hug the turret to keep from falling. Pretty low on my physical trauma list for the day, but I really think he did it on purpose, which placed it pretty high on the emotional trauma list.

When I climbed down, Zer0 was typing something into a tall machine that looked almost like the immortality stations, but it had never occurred to me to use one like a terminal. He saw my confused look and grabbed my wrist again – and I think he was trying to be gentle, but it still had the whole kidnapper vibe. "Different. Travel." he paused, then added, "Causes nausea. Don't puke."


	2. Chapter 2

So, I don't really know what I was expecting to see when we re-constructed at our destination. But I did have _some_ kind of expectation, because I was disappointed when I saw Sanctuary. I think in my comfortable little high school mind, I wanted to see a normal town with normal people; I wanted it to be the one safe haven on what was, so far, the most surreal, dystopian planet I had ever seen. The legendary base of the freedom-fighting Vault Hunters, where those harassed by bandits and/or Hyperion could go to find protection. Sanctuary is _not that_. It looked dead – seriously, I think every single person was clinically depressed – and there were piles of trash everywhere, and like one guy smiled at me but the rest were just staring at walls or the ground. It definitely didn't have an air of safety and peace, or the strong united sense of revolution. It was just…dead.

"So is this _the _Sanctuary? Like the one you see on the news sometimes?" I asked as he dragged me down a particularly depressing alley (yep, the creepy kidnapper action was still on). Why not make the best of a potentially terrifying situation and attempt friendly conversation? After all, he got some Normal Points for warning me about the whole puke thing. Even though I puked anyway.

"Yes." He didn't even look back; actually, his grip tightened, if that was possible. I thought he sounded disappointed, but it was hard to hear emotions through that voice filter. It would have been nice if the actual Vault Hunters were as unhappy with Sanctuary as I was.

Halfway down the alley, he pushed open a door that was partially concealed by garbage and pulled me quickly inside, looking around cautiously before shutting it again. The inside was pitch-black, so my mind worked furiously to try to come up with designs for an assassin's dwelling. It had gotten halfway past the concealed wall of poison darts when he clicked on the lights and I saw…a shitty hotel room. All my awesome thoughts sank slowly down into a puddle of anti-climactic mud.

"This is where you live? _Seriously_?" I sighed heavily. Nothing good was happening that day. My theory of "Nothing Good Ever Happens on Pandora" became more evidenced. I slumped onto a ratty old couch (at least I got my wrist back) and was immediately aware of how tired I was – guess those immortality machines couldn't fix fatigue.

"Only sleep." Zer0 pushed a dented metal glass into my hands. "Drink."

It didn't seem to be poisoned, but then again, I hadn't seen him get it. In fact, there didn't even seem to be a kitchen, or a source of water. "Where did you-"

"Drink." He repeated firmly, gesturing to a rusty sink in the corner. "Dehydration."

I eyed the sink warily. "Tetanus versus dehydration." I muttered, but Zer0 looked like he would hover over me forever if I didn't drink it, so I did. I gotta admit, it was weird meeting an assassin with a motherly instinct. But at least it earned him more Normal Points.

I watched him move around the room, securing several small windows that he opened and closed with metal hatches. It was scary to think that he needed such measures in Sanctuary; I wondered how safe we really were here. Probably not very. I'd seen the news footage of Hyperion's robot army; though their design was inferior (their legs slowed movement and added unnecessary weight), their numbers and firepower made up for it. Not to mention the orbital destruction station.

"Hey," I asked quietly, half trying to break the silence and half sincere about my question, "how pointless is it…this Vault hunting business?"

Zer0, who had been stacking a few cans of preserved vegetables, turned toward me and put the cans down on a three-legged coffee table.

"We are only eight,

But our work is needed here.

This planet must change."

He sat cross-legged on the floor and opened one of the cans, pushing it toward me across the table. I took an experimental bite of the canned green beans, scooping them out with my fingers. Not bad. He remained still for a few minutes, tense and silent. He seemed frustrated, maybe frustrated with the whole situation.

"You have not yet seen

Hyperion's tyrant-king.

Soon you will know him."

"Oh, you mean Handsome Jack?" I asked excitedly, remembering the political fallout he'd caused on my home planet. It had prompted all the kids my age to "choose a side," so to speak, and to me it really separated the sane from the douchebags. My parents presented some of the loudest voices against his takeover of Pandora, calling it "corporate dictatorship" and "industrial imperialism." It took me years to figure out what that meant. But when I was old enough to understand, I was also old enough to know that inter-galaxy laws were nowhere near strong enough to stop Jack from plundering a border world. And no major system was willing to send its Hyperion-outfitted army to battle Hyperion.

Zer0 nodded, speaking into his ECHO communicator, "Maya."

I closed my eyes. He was rummaging around in some boxes, and I intended to ask who Maya was, but my limbs were so heavy and I couldn't work up the will to speak. The sounds he was making became more and more muffled, and I felt like my body was descending into the couch – I was sinking into one of those deceptive nap-dreams. I found myself back in my workshop on Eden-5, surrounded by my robotic creations and blueprints and unfinished homework, and it was great because I could have _sworn _that I was just on some God-forsaken planet eating green beans with an assassin that kidnapped me from the desert. But no, there was my pile of spare parts and the schoolbooks I used to prop up the designs in progress. I looked down at my workbench and saw an acceleration mod for Deathtrap – awesome! I summoned him and picked up the mod, wondering where I could install it that wouldn't look dumb.

I reached out with my right hand, but instead of metal I felt flesh, a bare shoulder with an Italian leather purse strap over it, a purse which I'd hidden in the classroom many times out of spite for its owner.

"How did _you _get in here-" I spat, ready to take her ass to beat-town, but Marcy wasn't there when I turned around. It was only Deathtrap, floating there obediently, covered in bright red blood. It flowed in rivulets down his chest plate and dripped rhythmically off of his digistruct claws to pool on the floor. I panicked and grabbed a work rag, wiping the blood away relentlessly, cursing myself out loud for not cleaning him up after the arm fiasco. But I knew that wasn't the source of the blood. But I couldn't stop. The rag got saturated but I just kept wiping, and blood kept spraying from somewhere, and it was staining my hands. God, that stain would never come out.

"…ke up. Wake up! Hey!" A woman's voice yelled inches from my face, soft hands shaking my shoulders.

I sat up, startled, deeply relieved to see the run-down hotel room that was Zer0's dwelling, to see my hands clean, to see a living face that wasn't trying to kill me.

"W-who…?" I asked absently of the woman, probably the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen – the kind me and my friends used to idolize and hate because we would never have that figure. But the tattoos caught my attention the most. "Siren? For real? You guys are _real_?"

She smiled slightly and sat down next to me on the couch. I noticed Zer0 in a corner, perched on a pile of boxes. "Yes, but that's not important right now. My name is Maya; what's yours?"

"Gaige." I replied hesitantly, surprised at how warm her skin was. Sirens were mythical, kinda like dragons or the Chupacabra, and we were taught in school that they were a form of new-age religious fanaticism that people used as an excuse to form cults. Find a kid, ritually tattoo them, and misinterpret a string of coincidences and bam! They have found their god. But this chick was way out on Pandora, and didn't seem like the cult type – so what was going on?

"Well, Gaige, my friend Zer0 here tells me that he found you dehydrated out in the Dust, and that you just arrived on this planet. Can you tell me more about that?" She offered me more water. I gulped it down appreciatively. The way she spoke was gentle but authoritative, and I wondered if she was the boss around here.

I considered spilling my whole story, but after that dream I was feeling a little queasy about it. "I was on a shuttle, but it crashed. We – I mean, me and the other survivors – tried to get help, but a bunch of bandits came through and killed everyone. I came back through one of those weird machines, but I don't think the others did." I paused, remembering the immortality stations. "Speaking of, how do those things work? Why didn't the other people come back too?"

Maya pursed her lips, and I felt like she was trying her best not to show an emotion, though which emotion was up for interpretation. "The New-You system only works for certain people that are registered. Hyperion upper tier personnel and enforcement, for example. And Vault Hunters. We have a theory as to who registered us, and probably you, too." She glanced to Zer0, but he only shrugged. "I'm guessing that's why he brought you back here, but good luck getting a straight answer."

"Are you a Vault Hunter too?" I blurted out of curiosity. She looked back at me, startled. I really had to stop doing that.

"Yes, I am." Maya stood up and offered me her hand. I went to grab it with my robotic arm, but then, for the first time ever, I felt a little self-conscious about it and switched to my right. It was strange. I had been so fond of intimidating people with it at school, and it was a convenient excuse to not go on dates ("Yeah, I'm sure you want _this _caressing you late at night, heh-heh-heh"). And it's not like prosthetic limbs were rare; if they were done professionally, you couldn't even tell one from a natural limb. I wanted mine to look mechanical, because it was awesome. But I honestly could not touch this gorgeous woman's hand with it, because suddenly I felt awful and disfigured.

"Are you okay?" Maya asked, helping me stand. I think she misinterpreted my expression because she quickly added, "Vault Hunters aren't bad people; we're not like those bandits, no matter what Hyperion says."

I nodded emphatically, unsure how to get the point across that Vault Hunters were pretty much my role models for everything. "Oh, I know! I'm just feeling a little…I'm feeling sick." I leaned against a wall and noticed Zer0 staring at me; his stare was very unsettling because he was pretty much wearing full-face sunglasses and I couldn't discern any kind of motive.

"Well, you've been through a lot today." Maya said, trying to reassure me. "I still have some questions, but I could come back later, if you want."

"No!" I really didn't want her to leave. It was irrational, but she was the only normal person I'd seen in days. "I mean, I'm not _that _sick. Plus, I have questions too. So shoot."

She smiled, relieved, but then seemed to hesitate. She raised her hands and then lowered them, seemingly at a loss for posture. "Gaige, do you want to be a Vault Hunter like us?"

"Well, yeah, that's why I came here." I was wary of her tone. She was about to pull the you-can't-do-things-because-you're-a-kid speech. I knew that damn tone.

She and Zer0 exchanged glances. He shrugged again; she looked annoyed. "Well, I don't want to say that age has any effect on survivability here. But Vault hunting does require a certain amount of…killing…experience." She shifted uncomfortably. "Have you ever fired a gun?"

"Yes!" I shot back defensively, perhaps too quickly, because Maya raised a suspicious eyebrow. I shrank under her stare, lacing my fingers together nervously. "I mean, a couple times. At some cans. When Dad wasn't home."

She sighed and sat back down on the couch, pulling a huge pistol out of her belt. "I've killed more bandits with this thing than I can count. If you can't kill, you can't survive here. And I know you have your own reasons for coming," she glanced at my left arm, "but maybe Pandora is not the right planet."

I curled the fingers of my robotic hand. "I can kill." It was mostly a bluff, but it rang disturbingly true in my head.

Maya tilted her head. "Really? You don't look the type to me." Zer0 scoffed through his filter. She glanced over and narrowed her eyes. "Usually you can just _tell_, you know? You should be the expert here."

"I am." He chuckled and jumped nimbly down from the box pile.

"You, of all people,

Know that what is held inside

Is not always seen."

Maya frowned and crossed her arms. "Fine." She stood again and pivoted toward me. "Who'd you kill? How'd you do it?"

I shuffled my feet. "Well, it wasn't really _me_…it was _him_…" I pictured Deathtrap again, covered in blood, and he whispered mechanically, _we only do what we're told_. "I-I mean, it was both of us, sort of."

"Him?" Maya tilted her head. "But there was no one else with you, right?" She looked to Zer0; he shook his head.

"No, he's not – he's not always here." I raised my left arm. "I built him. He's a robot. Digiscanned into this arm."

Zer0 approached the couch, curiosity creeping into his voice. "Interesting. Show me."

Maya nodded. "Yeah, that sounds pretty cool."

I grimaced inwardly. Oh no. This was Public Speaking all over again. ECHOcasting was fine, because hey, you're never going to meet most of those people ever. But four eyes just…_on _you (I assumed Zer0 had eyes) was unnerving.

After a few seconds of mental preparation and many deep breaths, I digistructed Deathtrap in the center of the room and registered all beings as non-hostile. He hovered close to me as per his programming, performing several room scans per minute.

"Ta-da," I said nervously, holding up his arms to show the claws. "This is the D374-TP…I call him Deathtrap."

Maya whistled; Zer0 circled my bot several times before muttering, "Interesting," again.

"You _built _this?" Maya gently touched one of Deathtrap's spikes. Since she was registered friendly, he allowed it. She turned to me. "And he killed someone?"

"Yes and yes." I placed a hand on one of his arm plates. "I made a mistake in the calibrations. So, that's why I'm here."

"Elegance in steel.

A conduit for power.

Remote destruction!"

Zer0 seemed overjoyed. He stood before Deathtrap, looking up at his eye. "How efficient."

Maya rolled her eyes. "Ignore him. I think he's secretly a giant nerd."

A glowing red "**:(**" flashed on his helmet.

I couldn't stop myself from laughing out loud – really laughing, like the unattractive open-mouth kind you do without thinking.

"Anyway," She was suppressing a laugh, "do you think you could keep those calibrations off? This guy would do pretty well against bandits."

I looked back over at Deathtrap, who immediately set his scanner on me for new instructions. "Yeah, I mean, that would be pretty awesome." A sudden thought hit me, and I swung around to face Maya, "Does that mean I'm a Vault Hunter now?!"

She grinned and lightly punched me in the shoulder (though she chose the wrong shoulder, and I'm pretty sure it hurt her more than it hurt me). "Hun, you don't need anyone's permission to be a Vault Hunter. You just have to survive."


	3. Chapter 3

I swung my legs idly back and forth over the side of the bench, watching Zer0 line up a headshot on a bandit. Not a hard thing to do when the bandit's tied to a big metal plate, but still cool to watch. He had three sniper rifles propped up beside him, and he'd been testing shots with them for over an hour. Me? I just sat there. Watching. He seemed oblivious to my existence. Actually, I think he was _actively _ignoring me.

How did this come about?

Well, it started when Maya asked about my ECHO recorder, and I told her about my casts and stuff, and she got really freaked out for some reason. Before she ran out, she pretty much designated Zer0 as my babysitter (but I totally didn't need one), calling it a "challenge" when he got all mad.

However, instead of retaliating or showing anger, he got really really quiet. And that quietness stretched from his room all the way to this dark little basement with the practice bandits. Apparently it was a store or something, but we came down a long set of stairs that led to a moderately lit, subterranean concrete room. On my planet we called those things _basements_.

"So…" I leaned to the side, attempting to get his attention (didn't work). After a painfully long and awkward silence, I added, "Are we gonna go adventuring? Kill some stuff, perhaps find a vault?"

He lowered his rifle. "No. We wait."

"Wait for _what_?" I kicked a small rock across the floor, but the blood smear it left made me a little worried. I resolved not to kick any more rocks. "I don't think Maya is coming back. She said "soon" but it's been like an hour. Not cool."

"We wait." He reiterated sternly, putting the rifle down and picking up another.

"I don't even know what I did; she just blew up at me." I turned my ECHO recorder over and over in my hands. "Did I say something wrong? Is she not a fan of ECHOcasting?"

Zer0 sighed heavily, took a shot at Bandit #93, and completely missed.

Completely.

Missed.

Like it flew off to the side somewhere and we never heard from it again. Then he had the nerve to look back at me like it was _my _fault, like I can control his accuracy. I wasn't some mysterious goddess of marksmanship. Plus he sort of deserved it for ignoring me.

Slowly, he set the rifle down and approached my bench.

"Think of your actions;

Twenty thousand listeners

Eager for reward."

I blinked several times, unsure what he meant. "Okay, the haiku thing is cool and all, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

This time, his sigh sounded more like a groan.

"Constantly searching,

Unseen eyes scan galaxies.

Jack looks for hunters."

"Hunters? Like, Vault Hunters?" Zer0 nodded. I looked down at my ECHO recorder, suddenly horrified. Twenty _thousand_ people. I couldn't even picture that many people in one place. Statistics was definitely not my forte, but it wasn't hard to imagine that at least one of them valued money over a random stranger. "I told them where I was going." I said quietly, looking up at Zer0 and setting down the recorder. "The shuttle…that crash probably wasn't an accident, huh?"

"No." He reached out a hand and awkwardly patted my shoulder in – I assumed – an attempt to make me feel better. Then he abruptly turned back around, chose one of the rifles, and started walking toward the stairs. When I didn't get up, he made an exaggerated gesture toward the exit.

"I'll catch up." There was a lump in my throat, rising slowly. "Just leave me alone for a minute, okay?"

He stared for a moment, and then said, "Moxxi's when ready," before leaving.

I stared down at my ECHO recorder, contemplating breaking it into tiny pieces. "I didn't mean to." I told it, hoping irrationally that it would answer me and tell me that it was okay. But it didn't. It just sat there. Instead I heard Deathtrap again, whispering to me in that fuzzy digital whisper, _you never mean to_.

I closed my eyes and leaned back, resting my head on the cool concrete wall. "Okay, yes, I know. So shut up already."

"Who're you talking to, girl?" A stocky middle-aged man stepped out of a side door, hefting a big cardboard box in his arms. He stopped to gather up the rifles Zer0 left behind but struggled to balance them on top of the box. "If you have time to sleep in my shop, help me carry this."

He shoved the rifles into my arms and I took them, too shocked to do anything else. "U-Um, okay." I stood and even smiled a little, appreciative of this strange turn of events. Halfway up the stairs I realized my ECHO recorder was still sitting on the bench, but I didn't care enough to go back for it.

The man unlocked a door at the top of the stairs, shooting me a narrow-eyed sidelong glance that dared me to try to follow him in. I offered him the rifles after he'd set his box down, and he took them quickly. "Thanks. Who are you, anyway? Kind of young for this place, yeah?" He chuckled deeply and began sorting out the various guns in the box.

I was pleased to know that he was friendlier when there were iron bars between the world and his weapon stock. "I'm Gaige. I just got h-here-" An unexpected surge of emotion hit me right in the stomach; I tried to wipe my eyes nonchalantly, but evidently I'm not a very casual person, because he frowned.

"Hey now girl, don't cry. Pandora's not that scary when you – ehh." He scratched the back of his neck. "Okay, it's scary all the time."

I wished he would stop talking. Something about complete strangers made it really easy to lose control in front of them, at least for me. I hid my face in my hands, leaning against the wall. "S-Sorry, I can't…" I trailed off, trying to think happy thoughts to stop the tears. But I just kept thinking of home, and it didn't help.

"No, hey, come on. It's okay." The man said quickly in his thick accent, obviously uncomfortable. He paused and looked down at his guns, then looked at me, then bent down and picked up one of the pistols. "Okay, okay, Marcus special, today only. Trade in a shit gun for a good gun." He pretended to notice the pistol at my belt for the first time, feigning surprise. "Look! A shit gun. You're in luck there, girl. Give it here."

I pulled the pistol out of my belt with shaking hands and gave it to him, and he handed me a much sturdier looking one. "Thank you." I swallowed and wiped my eyes once more. "That was very nice of you."

"Nice! Hah." The man blushed and turned around, clearing his throat loudly. "Well don't get used to it."

"I won't." I promised, shoving the new pistol into my belt. "I should catch up to my, erm, friend."

As I was leaving, I heard him mutter something about his damnable conscience. Strange as it was, he actually made me feel a lot better, despite the fact that he couldn't find anything good to say about Pandora. And he smelled like a businessman. I almost laughed, but then remembered there were other people around.

It was at that moment that I realized I had no clue what Zer0 had meant when he'd said "Moxxi's." I guessed it was a place, but I didn't know the layout of Sanctuary yet. So, why not attempt to get friendly with the locals and ask around?

I picked the least depressed looking person on the street outside the gun store and tentatively tapped him on the shoulder. He jumped and screamed, turning around with hands raised in a very Kung Fu sort of way. "What? Whaddaya want?"

"Whoa, calm down!" I backed away and raised my arms to show that I didn't have any weapons. "I just want to know where Moxxi's is, okay?"

He squinted at me, looked me up and down, and then seemed to relax a little. "Moxxi. Nice lady." He nodded theatrically and leaned in close to me, as if he were about to divulge a great secret, and then whispered, "Salamanders."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

He smiled sagely, placed a friendly hand on my arm, and said, "Yes." He then wandered away with an empty expression on his face. I stood there for a few minutes, silent, trying to comprehend what had just happened. I saw him walk all the way down the street before stopping in front of a random wall and banging on it with his fists.

Was this whole town freaking insane?


	4. Chapter 4

I wish that someone had just explained to me that the most surefire way to spot Moxxi's was to look for the big ass purple sign. Seriously, that's all it would have taken. "Look for the big ass purple sign." It would have saved me several weird and mostly one-sided conversations with the fine citizens of Sanctuary. But at least I learned stuff!

I think.

If knowing which creatures in the area were edible was considered valuable knowledge. Well, whatever. The point is that I found Moxxi's with absolutely no help from anyone in the town, though they tried their damnedest to give it to me.

As far as bars went, it was a pretty nice place. It had mood lighting and thumpy music and all that stuff I expected a bar to have, plus slot machines. I mean, I had like one dirty five dollar bill in my pocket, but maybe later I would finally get to gamble. Legally! Illegally? I still wasn't sure if anything on Pandora followed laws (or if there _were _any laws to be followed).

Anyway. I saw Maya immediately – and Zer0 by extension – because I'm pretty sure that Vault Hunters are the only people allowed to wear bright colors. They were sitting in a booth with two other men (one big and one small, it was like a cartoon) and Maya looked angry. She pointed aggressively at the small man and said something I couldn't hear from the entrance, and then he slammed a big meaty hand on the table; I decided to let that happen for a while before approaching.

I contemplated going over to the bar, where another ridiculously attractive woman was pouring drinks, but then considered the possibility of being kicked out for being underage. If Pandora _did _have any laws, I would be breaking a couple. Then again, a hairy foreigner had just handed me a gun without any kind of paperwork, and the possibility of underage drinking being a more severe crime than unlicensed arms dealing seemed pretty slim.

So I psyched myself up and sat right down at the bar, attempting to look like a confident stress-free adult. The woman behind the bar (very gaudily dressed by the way – maybe she was also a Vault Hunter) sauntered over to me and crossed her arms on the countertop. She smiled and said, "Eighteen," in the sultriest voice I'd ever heard.

I focused the entirety of my willpower on not changing my facial expression. "Hah! Thanks for saying so, but I'm twenty-three." I rested my left arm on the bar, hoping it would lend credibility to my statement. Though looking back, I don't know why I thought it would.

She laughed and set a dark brown bottle in front of me. "Nice try, honey, but I'm a pro at guessing ages." Her perfectly painted face showed no indication of _her _age, however. "Drink up, no one's gonna arrest you."

Hmm, alcohol. I studied it warily. It was the taboo of my old high school, the substance I avoided for the sake of science. Now it was legal (or something), and a hot lady was giving it to me, and there were absolutely no foreseeable consequences. _This is your chance to shine, Gaige. Don't be lame. Don't be lame. _I reached for the bottle, but then hesitated. What if I didn't have a very high alcohol tolerance? What if I got all tipsy and became a jackass in front of the Vault Hunters and then they decided that I couldn't hunt Vaults with them anymore?

"Sugar, you look pretty conflicted." The woman took the bottle away, grinning in a surprisingly seductive way. "Breakup?"

I glanced over to the Vault Hunters' table; they were still arguing. Well, all except Zer0. He was just watching. "No, I was supposed to meet someone here." I made myself look back at the bar. "But it looks like he's busy."

She whistled. "Ooh, you're after a Vault Hunter? Good luck, sister." She extended a dainty gloved hand. "By the way, I'm Moxxi. New in town?"

I took her hand, amazed at how elegantly she did everything. Not exactly my mental image of a bar owner. "Yeah, I just got here today." I paused and looked briefly over to Maya and Zer0 again. "Do they always fight like that?"

Moxxi smirked and began wiping down the bar top. "Honey, you haven't seen them fight yet. That's a _conversation_." She pushed some errant hair out of her face; I kind of just wanted to give her a hug. "Besides, it looks like your hot date has arrived."

"What?" I looked around and, sure enough, Zer0 was missing from the table. The other three didn't even seem to notice; or if they did, maybe it was such a common occurrence that they didn't care. Mild sense of foreboding. Moderate sense of déjà vu.

"Feeling better?" He asked, sitting there behind me all proud of himself, that bastard.

I narrowed my eyes and my face probably didn't look very nice. "Yes. You _really_ enjoy sneaking up on people, huh?"

He didn't answer, but "**:)**" flashed on his helmet.

"You sure have a weird type, sugar." Moxxi winked at me and moved down the bar to serve other customers.

Zer0's helmet projection changed to "**?**" and I quickly stood up to draw his attention with a relevant comment. However, I really suck in situations like that, so I ended up just standing there like a retard.

"So uh, what were you guys talking about?" I asked after a few panicked moments of scrambled thought.

Zer0 stood as well, but didn't look like he was about to go anywhere. I think he did it to make me feel better. Yes, it was so awkward that I got social pity from a guy in a jumpsuit. "You." He answered simply, and then added, "Staying."

"Oh." I was afraid to ask what decision they'd made. Maybe he knew that, because he started walking back toward the table, gesturing for me to follow.

Maya and the two men had stopped arguing. Now, they were laughing like old pals; maybe it would be a while before I truly understood Vault hunting.

Zer0 pointed to the small man and said, "Salvador," then pointed to the big man and said, "Axton." I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just waved.

"Ah, there you are." Maya pulled me down into the booth next to her. "Sorry about before. We talked about it, and since you're on Jack's radar now, you'll be staying with us."

Axton chuckled and rubbed his hands together. "She's only being nice because she lost."

"Shut up." She punched him in the shoulder (I got the feeling she did that a lot). "Anyway. There are conditions."

Oh no. _Conditions_.

"The New-You system is not reliable, since it's controlled by Jack. So we try not to die, even if it currently has no consequences. Which means you're going to need to learn how to fight, okay?" Maya passed her gaze over everyone at the table (including Zer0, who seemed content to stand). "Which means that one of us needs to teach her." She quickly touched a finger to her nose. "Not it."

Salvador immediately did the same. "Nuh-uh, not a chance."

Zer0 tilted his head, displaying a "**?**" and holding his hand to his mask.

Axton, finger on his nose, shook his head sadly. "Too bad, man. Looks like you're it."

"Not fair."

"Everything's fair on Pandora." The big man grinned and slapped Zer0 on the back. "C'mon, it'll be good for you. Get you more...personable."

"The noble flower

Learns nothing from the insect.

She makes too much noise."

"Hey!" I exclaimed, mentally kicked myself, and finished lamely, "I can be quiet."

Zer0 looked down at me, displaying "**…**" on his helmet.

"It'll be one of those _challenges_." Salvador snickered and stood up. "I'm out, amigos. Gotta see a man about a gun."

"Old joke!" Zer0 called after him, making an irritated grunting noise.

I clasped my hands together in my lap, uncomfortable being the topic of conversation yet again. I mean, yeah, I get that it's a bummer to have responsibility thrust on you suddenly, but I wasn't _that _much of a burden. Right?

Maya gestured for me to stand. "Okay, Zer0. Do this for us and I'll get you out of tomorrow's meeting."

A big "**!**" appeared on his mask.

"Yup, the whole meeting. You can go do whatever it is you do with your free time and I'll ECHO you the details." She extended her hand slowly. "Deal?"

He sighed and shook her hand. "Very well."


	5. Chapter 5

**Note: I realized five chapters in that "New-You" is actually spelled "New-U" (thank you, Borderlands Wiki). So that will be corrected from now on.**

Bandits: three. Gaige: zero.

I clenched my teeth and stabbed another med hypo into my side. As it turned out, bullets were _really _hard to dodge, especially when your supposed companion was content with letting you be the target while he sniped from a concealed location. So, two hours and five healing needle stabs later, I was no better with a gun than before. Oh, sure, I had shot several bandits, but only by accident while running for my life. When I actually tried to aim, I missed terribly and received a face full of bullets as a reward.

And what had Zer0 done the whole time? Nothing. No, I take that back: he did lots of things, none of which kept me from being shot.

"Hey, I'm pretty sure this isn't how teaching works!" I yelled up to the building where he'd made his sniping nest. It hurt to yell. Is this what hunting Vaults would be like the whole time?

"Hands-on." He called back, chuckling – _chuckling _– like he didn't even care. I heard the sniper rifle fire again, and a bandit in the distance practically exploded.

"Well, I think we should start with some basic target practice or something." I checked my pistol's ammo; of course, I was out. And all the boxes around me had already been thoroughly looted, for the last twenty times I ran out of ammo.

Zer0 surveyed our surroundings and climbed down the building, stating proudly, "Bandits dead."

I squinted ahead to the next part of Strangely Uniform Bandit Town (actual name unknown) and it was indeed free of enemies. Damn, that man worked fast. There were a few walking around far down the street, but that happened often. Bandits were dumb and very unobservant.

"Wrong gun." Zer0 pointed at my almost-gift from Marcus, shaking his head. He pulled a bigger, heartier looking weapon off of his back. It was shiny. I wanted to touch it. So you can imagine my surprise when he handed it to me. "Better. SMG."

I held it like a religious artifact. Blue stripes decorated its sides and little bolts of electricity danced around the barrel. I wasn't really sure how that was going to work. "So I just shoot it like normal?"

"Yes." He said it as if he were educating an elementary school student. Then again, that's pretty much what I was in the "how to hit people with bullets" arena.

I hoisted the gun the way I assumed it was supposed to be held – and Zer0 didn't start laughing so I guess I did it right – and pointed it at a wall. With a deep breath and planted feet, I eased my finger onto the trigger, vaguely aware of Zer0's voice behind me shouting, "Wait! Unprepared!"

Then all Hell broke loose. I know that phrase is used a lot to mean "shit went down," but seriously, what happened was so sudden and unexpected that I would have been willing to believe that a literal portal to Hell had opened up on the wall and things were breaking loose from it.

First of all, I had thought that I knew the meaning of _recoil_, but I learned in that instant that it meant something much different and way worse. I started out in the middle of a street facing a wall, and then like a millisecond later I was on my ass sprawled against the opposite wall and facing a similarly positioned assassin. We'd both been knocked over backwards, and his limbs resembled those of a man who had just lost an incredibly tense game of Twister.

I tried not to laugh but it was really hard. I mean, Zer0 went through so much trouble to be calm and fluid all the time and now he looked like a freaking pretzel. _Ninja pretzel_. Oh no. I could feel my organs shivering from the pent up mirth. He, on the other hand, didn't even acknowledge our silly poses; he just stood up, picked up the SMG, and handed it to me again. "Practice," he said, but his voice kind of sounded like that one time I tried to see if our garbage disposal could handle human bones (it couldn't).

"Practice on _what_? You want me to run into that herd of bandits? Nuh-uh, mister." I shouldered the SMG, gesturing to the stretch of open street. "And there are no more med hypos, either."

He glanced toward the distant bandits, then down at my ragged appearance. He tilted his head to the side and spoke sternly,

"As a Vault Hunter,

This should be nothing to you.

Let us return home."

I couldn't say anything back because he started walking away, but his words still stung me. I felt like I was a big two-ton boulder that he had to drag around everywhere, and that is not a good feeling; Hell, I couldn't even hold my own against a group of dumb bandits. Those guys couldn't shoot straight even if they _weren't _messed up from exposure and dehydration and drugs and pre-existing mental conditions.

The walk back to the fast travel station was quiet and weird. I couldn't think of anything to say that didn't seem forced, and Zer0 didn't offer up any of his super insightful wisdom either. On the bright side, it looked like the sky was finally getting dark. I swear Pandora has a zillion hour rotation period.

Back in the apartment, I took my fresh clothes from the New-U station (how handy is that, no washing machines or anything) and locked myself in the bathroom. Not that I didn't trust Zer0 – he seemed like a pretty okay guy so far – but he was still probably a man, and I was taking no chances. My only experience with guys so far had been the stinky, obnoxious horn dogs at my old high school. They hadn't exactly left a good impression.

I inspected myself in the dirty mirror and cringed away like a cave creature. Frizzy hair, baggy eyes, dirt-smudged skin…it was like a regular all-nighter in the shed. Yeah, some good old-fashioned soap and water would do me a _world _of good. Even though the showerhead was old and half-blocked and the water was lukewarm, it was the best shower I'd ever had; it felt good to watch the dirt and the dried blood swirl away down the drain.

The last shower I'd had – the one on Eden-5 before the science fair – seemed like it was taken by a different person in another dimension. It was taken by a girl whose only worry was a local contest. I tried to make a coherent timeline that stretched from that shower to this one, but my experiences on Pandora were so surreal that it was impossible to connect them to my former life; the shuttle crash severed that timeline, creating two frayed ends that couldn't come together no matter how hard I pushed. It was kind of a sad realization.

I turned the water off, wincing at the banshee shriek the handle made. Really, with all the _stuff _the Vault Hunters acquired, Zer0 couldn't afford a decent place to live? Man, assassins were weird. I dried myself vigorously with a (hopefully) clean towel and put on the new clothes; I wondered how the New-U stations kept scarily accurate records of clothing and hair accessories, but then figured it was probably better not to think about the nuances of that technology.

Zer0 was back on his pile of boxes when I emerged, his legs drawn up to his chest and his head resting against the wall. He might have been sleeping, but I wasn't so sure. There were two more open cans of green beans and a cup of water on the janky coffee table, and a threadbare blanket folded up on the couch.

I sat down and stared at him suspiciously. "Okay, I'm getting mixed messages here." His head tilted ever so slightly toward me. "Do you hate me or are you okay with this? Cuz you act all cold and aloof and then you make my bed. I don't get it."

"Eat. Sleep." He turned his head away again, settling into the corner.

"No." I replied, even though I already had a hand in one of the cans. "I really want to know." What _he_ didn't need to know was that I was already comfortable around him. Yeah, I formed attachments quickly. That's not an easy habit to change.

"A seed in the breeze

Falls down to the barren earth,

Fragile and wanting."

His voice was softer than I was used to, almost sad. I was stricken by the vulnerability; he'd answered my question, indeed. His shoulders hunched over and completely blocked off his face, but I saw the red glow of one of his helmet projections. I opened my mouth to ask which one it was, but then decided to leave it alone. He would have shown me if he'd wanted me to know.

So I leaned back into the couch and dug into my green beans, but I did it with a smile.


	6. Chapter 6

I didn't dream that night. It was one of those nights where you close your eyes, then open them eight hours later and have to spend a minute wondering what happened. Okay, there was the ceiling with its questionable dark spots; table, cup, empty cans, blanket; all good here. I swung my legs over the side of the couch and rubbed my left shoulder, gently touching the swollen skin around the metal joint. Freaking dry weather – hopefully there was lotion on this planet. Yes, that could be avoided with a proper surgical procedure, but I'd be damned if a robotics surgeon laid a thieving eye on my magnificent tech.

I shrugged on my jacket and stood up, yawning. Of course Zer0 was nowhere to be found (weird how I was already used to that). There was a note on the table that read "Moxxi's" in harsh angular letters – where the hell did he find a _pen_ – and I wondered how much of our relationship was going to be comprised of him telling me to go there. I shoved my feet into my boots, ignoring the mysterious, viscous fluids from the previous day's slaughtering that still clung to the soles.

Half-consciously, I raised my left arm to digistruct Deathtrap and reached toward the oil on my nightstand, clicking my tongue in irritation when the oil can wasn't there. After a moment of dazed anger, my mind snapped back to the present and I lowered both arms, smiling a little. There was no nightstand and no oil. This was not my old room. All of my morning routines were going to change.

I was still thinking about that as I walked into the bar, remembering all of my tools and accessories, neatly arranged in my room and in the shed for easy access. There was no time to grab any of that. Not even my custom soldering kit with the cats on it.

But those thoughts were bordering on _dangerous_.

I found Zer0 at the same table as before, sitting with Axton, who was ravaging a plate of mystery food and talking in between bites. Zer0's mask displayed "**?**" and "**!**" alternately, so I guessed he was being briefed on whatever mission the other Vault Hunters discussed at their meeting.

Seeing him sent a jolt of the previous night's events through my head, and I tried not to make a weird face as I sat down at the table. It seemed as though a guy like Zer0 didn't get vulnerable very often, and I wasn't exactly used to people other than my parents being so nice to me. Granted he was only nice in short bursts, but it was a whole hell of a lot better than the treatment I'd gotten at school.

And then I realized that while I was pondering, Axton had stopped talking and they both started staring at me. I guess I wasn't trying hard enough to make a normal face. Or maybe it was _too _normal and I looked like I'd just murdered someone.

Crap. _Just say, "good morning." Say it. _"Uh, g-good morning," I sputtered, grimacing inwardly. _It was one phrase! You practiced it!_

"Good morning." Zer0 replied simply, raising one arm and waving Moxxi over. She pursed her lips and gestured to the many patrons at the bar, lifting her index finger to suggest patience.

"Morning, kid." Axton grinned and put his fork down to extend his hand. I took it and he shook vigorously – I wasn't really ready for it, so I kind of swayed with the force. "Didn't get a chance to meet you properly last time. How's the old robot been treatin' you?"

"Robot? What?" I flexed my hand to make sure everything was still intact, and then it hit me. I giggled. "Oh, yeah, we're totally best friends now."

Zer0's legs shifted under the table and he turned away, pretending to be engrossed in the neon lights on the walls. It was fun to make _him _the uncomfortable one sometimes.

Axton laughed so hard that he started coughing. His face flushed to his ears; it was kind of cute. Everyone around here did surprisingly cute things. He cleared his throat loudly and wiped a few tears out of the corners of his eyes. "Whew, okay, I wasn't expecting that."

"Not funny." Zer0 muttered, tilting his head toward me and crossing his arms.

"Anyway," Axton pushed his remaining mystery food around the plate and set the fork down again. Yeah, I would have made the same decision – I couldn't even tell what it was supposed to be. It was like a half-meat, half-soup abomination. And it was _orange_, "Roland says you two are gonna go meet up with his spy out in Tundra Express."

Zer0 leaned forward a bit, spreading both hands out on the table. "Details?"

I couldn't speak; I think I started quivering with excitement. It would be a real mission with real Vault Hunters, doing real and dangerous things to get closer to the Vault.

_Awesome_.

"Well, he's got a guy out there that's been watching Hyperion for a while, but I guess he's a heavy sleeper or something." Axton hesitated, taking a slow swig of whatever he was drinking in a way that looked a lot like stalling to me.

"_Heavy sleeper?_" Zer0 lowered his head and leaned further forward. "Axton," He stated dryly, and when the big man did not reply, he added, "Clarify."

"Uhh, well, you two just hafta wake him up." Axton flashed a half-assed grin and took a sip from his cup. "By setting varkids on fire." He mumbled over the rim, then set down the cup and shrugged like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Zer0 tapped his fingers against the table for a few moments, regarding Axton silently. The bigger man dove back into his meat soup obliviously, though I didn't even want to imagine what it tasted like. I looked back and forth between them, wondering if this was a standoff or not.

Finally Zer0 reached over and snatched the fork, dripping with orange goop, and slammed it down on the table. "Varkids?" He asked menacingly as Axton stared in disbelief at his stolen utensil. "_Why varkids?_" He jabbed a finger in my direction. "Her fault?"

"Yeah, varkids. And yeah, it's to give her some experience." Axton sighed and flashed me an apologetic glance. He picked up the fork and wiped it off on his sleeve. "Maya and Sal are waiting for the spy's intel, and you _know _we don't do things all together; it's too dangerous."

Zer0 gestured to himself and spat, "Solo!"

Axton pushed his plate forward and stood up, shrugging again. "Look man, it was Roland's decision. I'm just the messenger." He patted me on the shoulder. "Don't let him give you too much crap, okay? Everyone started out where you are."

I smiled without meaning to; this guy's natural charm was a little scary. Zer0 slumped, arms still crossed, against the back of the bench. I took the opportunity to switch booth sides. "Uh, we'll take care of it," I said as firmly as I could to Axton, who nodded and left.

"Come on, how hard could it be?" I tried to sound confident; Zer0 cocked his head to the side. I got the feeling he didn't buy it. "It's just setting varkids on fire. By the way, what are varkids?"

He groaned, folded his arms on the table, and buried his head in them. He also offered no explanation to my innocent and completely valid question.

"Varkids, huh?" Moxxi seemed to materialize beside our booth in all her buxom glory. I jumped a little. "Good luck. What'll you have?"

I could only stare like a deer in headlights for a minute. "H-Have?" Her gaze fell on the half-eaten plate of orange meat soup that Axton had left behind. I followed it and immediately felt like an idiot. "Oh! Uh, water?"

She giggled and I wanted to hug her again. "Don't be afraid of the food, sugar. The local meat sources are, well…non-traditional…but you get used to it."

"Or starve." Zer0 offered wryly from his arm fortress.

Moxxi ignored him expertly. "Gotta eat protein to survive out here. Let me get you a skag burger, yeah?" She smiled, walked a few steps back to the bar, then turned and winked at me. "And some water."

I cocked my head to the side and whispered to Zer0, "Is she…is she flirting with me?"

He didn't move, but answered just as quietly, "With everyone."

"Oh." I looked back to the bar; Moxxi was slicing something that looked like a lumpy sausage – I assumed it was skag. Gross.

"Hey, have you ever, like, done anything with her? Cuz she's really pretty." I was _way _too excited about that concept. But I had just come from a place where anything sexual was taboo, so it was novel to think about a land where it wasn't.

"No."

"Has anyone else?"

"Many."

"_How many?_" I lifted my right hand, fingers spread out, and presented it to Zer0. He raised his head and shook it slowly. Mouth agape, I lifted my robotic hand and spread those fingers.

"Gaige, stop." He made a small sound that could have been a chuckle. I like to think that it was.

I let both hands fall back on the table and sighed. "Okay, fine."


End file.
